


Ice and Fire in Essos

by TinaMuller



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, Essos, F/M, GoT au, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinaMuller/pseuds/TinaMuller
Summary: When Lyanna Stark dies slightly earlier, the three Kingsguard travel east with their newborn King.Raised in exile together, Aegon "Jon" Targaryen and his aunt Daenerys "Dany" Targaryen must try to find themselves an army to take back the Iron Throne. Unless it turns out that the true danger lurks north, in the Lands of Always Winter...Dany/Jon in a GoT AU.Second part of my AU versions, but you don't have to read "A Vision of Ice and Fire" to understand it.





	Ice and Fire in Essos

Disclaimer: I own nothing of GoT. I was merely curious to explore yet another AU, and here it is.

* * *

 

 

“Will you come with me? I know we had a long day discussing our plans for the upcoming battle, but I am far too curious about what might have happened if I had lived in Essos with you”, Jon told Daenerys who lifted an eyebrow at her husband. “Does it even matter? I am pretty sure that the fact that you married me last night proves that you stopped caring about the fact that we are related.” Jon smiled at her, shaking his head. “It’s not about that. Besides going to King’s Landing and my time on Dragonstone, I never left the North. If this battle ends badly, I won’t ever leave it. And even if the two of us win this battle and the Iron Throne, I’ll probably never see Essos at all. I want to know what it looks like.” It was an argument she could understand, all her live in Essos, she had dreamt of the way Westeros would look; but unlike her husband, she had seen it with her own eyes now. So the two of them made their way back to the Red Priestess, and for the second evening in a row, they saw a vision in the flames.

 

* * *

 

“It’s too late.” Lyanna Stark-Targaryen’s voice was lacking much of her usual fire. “His name is Aegon Targaryen. You have to protect him. Promise me, Arthur. Promise me, Gerold. Promise me, Oswell.” The three Kingsguard looked at the bleeding woman, swearing their vows to her. “I have written Ned a letter...he won’t hurt you…”

 

Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, took the baby boy in his arms, wrapping him in the white cloak of the Kingsguard. “He looks like you, Lyanna.” This brought a smile to her bloodless lips. “Protect him...protect my little Jon…” she whispered, before closing her eyes. There was no time left to loose. “We head for Essos right away, before anyone can find us. We will meet with Queen Rhaella there”, Lord Commander Gerold Hightower decided.

 

They packed their few belongings, before saddling their horses and heading to Starfall. “My family will make sure we have everything we need”, Arthur told his brothers and together, they rode through Dorne. The cruelty of the sack of King’s Landing would never be forgotten and they would make sure that this boy would one day take the Iron Throne, his birthright.

 

Their journey came to a halt in the ancient fortress of Starfall, where Arthur demanded to see his sister, Ashara Dayne, at once. His sister was in tears, looking worse than he had ever seen her. “She’s dead...my baby girl is dead…” she whispered and clung to her brother. Arthur held her as she sobbed, trying to sooth her. “She is dead and Ned has been forced to wed Catelyn Tully...there is no reason for me to go on…” “No, Ashara. Don’t ever say or think that. We have to keep fighting.” “What for?” she wanted to know. And that was when he told her everything.

 

They kept little Jon - they decided that calling him Aegon would be too dangerous - with them all the time, while they planned their journey across the Narrow Sea. At first they had considered setting sail to Dragonstone, but after sending a message there, it was impossible. Queen Rhaella had died, giving birth to her daughter Daenerys Stormborn. A few hours earlier that night, Prince Viserys Targaryen and a few soldiers had boarded a ship to Essos, a ship that sunk in the storm like most of the Targaryen fleet. So in the end the former master-at-arms, Ser Willem Darry, was about to cross the Narrow Sea with the Princess in one of the last remaining ships, heading to Braavos. This was where all of them would meet, their secret rendezvous point.

 

“I had hoped that the Queen would be with us”, Oswell murmured, the waves gently rocking the boat. Ashara was in a cabin with Jon, a baby she immediately loved - he did look like a Stark, after all. “We have to do our best then. Jon and Daenerys are the last hope for the Seven Kingdoms...the last dragons. We failed Rhaegar and Lyanna...and we failed Rhaella. _But we won’t fail them_ ”, Gerold vowed. They had switched their Kingsguard armour for plainer one, trying to draw as little attention to them as possible. “We are nearing Braavos”, the captain informed his passengers - sellswords, obviously - and pointed at a mark in the distance. “That’s the Titan of Braavos. Your journey across the Narrow Sea is almost over.”

 

The house they headed to has been described in detail by a letter that arrived before they set sail, and the relief on Ser Willem Darry’s face was evident when he opened the door. “Come in, quickly.” He had been surprised when the last letter had mentioned that they would bring Arthur’s sister with them, but it had been a pleasant surprise. “So this is our King…” he murmured, looking at the sleeping boy with dark hair. “He doesn’t look like a Targaryen.” “No”, Arthur replied, “he’s got his mother’s looks. A Stark, if I’ve ever seen one.” “What’s his name?” “He is Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of his name. But we usually call him Jon, the nickname Lyanna gave him before she died. His life will be dangerous enough, even with an ordinary name.”

 

“I suppose we should bring him to a crib, so he can sleep peacefully”, Ashara said, interrupting her brother and his companion. “Of course, right here…” The room was small, with only a small window and two cribs. One was currently occupied by a sleeping baby girl, so Gerold placed Jon in the other one. “So this is his aunt”, the Lord Commander stated. Unlike Jon, who looked very much like a wolf, there was no doubt of the dragonblood in her. Silvery-blonde hair, delicate features...and he would have gambled on the fact that her eyes would be violet or blue when she opened them. “Yes. This is Princess Daenerys Stormborn. Much like you refer to him as Jon, I refer to her as Dany. The name is rather obvious, after all.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ned Stark rode back north in silence. He had arrived at the Tower of Joy with some of his most trusted men, only to find it empty. Worried about a trap, he ordered his companions to patrol the area, and entered with Howland Reed. He was too late, though - his sister was dead; lying dead in a bed of blood and roses...with a letter next to her. Tears filled his eyes as he opened the envelope, beginning to read.

_My dear Ned,_

_When you read this, I am already dead. All I can ask for is your forgiveness. I never wanted to marry Robert Baratheon. He was infatuated with me, but at the same time, he had already dishonoured me by fathering three bastards. I hate him, so much, I always did; but especially now, after he killed my husband._

_We loved each other, Rhaegar and me, and he had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled. We were wed by the High Septon. And now I died giving birth to our son, Aegon Targaryen._

_He will be safe with the Kingsguard, safe in Essos. But the Iron Throne is his, and not the stag’s property. Promise that you will help him take it, when the time has come. Promise me, Ned._

 

It was all a lie. All of them had died for nothing. His brother and father had died for nothing...Rhaegar himself had died for nothing...so many good men had died for nothing...Ned Stark closed his eyes, knowing that he would blame himself for his sister’s death for the rest of his life. She had protested against marrying Robert...and her little brother Benjen had taken her side, saying that she should be allowed to choose. Even Brandon was unsure, but he had swayed them, vouched for his friend Robert. If she had been free to choose Rhaegar Targaryen, nothing of this would have happened. “We are going back to the North.” They had no more business in the south, not anymore.

 

“They are not going to have an easy life”, Gerold murmured and watched the two sleeping babies. “Such is the price of duty.” Jon and Dany were the last remaining Targaryens - no matter what, they had to secure the line. “Part of me wants to object to it, but it was not only the way of the Targaryens, but the way of the dragonlords: Marrying brother to sister, cousin to cousin, uncle to niece...for millennia.” Ashara stood next to him. “You’re taking their choice away already, when they have just been born?” she asked, looking at the four knights. “I don’t think there has ever been a choice in that regard. Not for these two.”

 

They settled into a fragile routine in Braavos. Ser Willem Darry stayed at the house, guarding the children. Ashara fed them and cared for them most of the time. The three Kingsguard ventured into the city to earn money. It was a difficult task, finding jobs that allowed them to keep a low profile, but they managed it well enough. They blended in with the common crowd of sellswords and the like, whatever it would take to raise them safely enough. It wasn’t going to be a life of splendour, but it wouldn’t be the life of a pauper either. And for a long time, this would be all.

 

“Benjen. We need to talk. Now.” Benjen Stark looked up, seeing his elder brother, the heir of Winterfell, approaching. “I don’t think there is any reason…” The youngest son of Lord Rickon Stark had been very affected by the death of his older sister, there was even rumour that he planned to take the Black and join the Night’s Watch. As soon as these rumours reached Ned, he knew that he had to act. Together, they entered Ned’s solar, and Ned closed the door behind them, locking it. “Ned...I am tired. What is so important that it requires that much secrecy?” The lord of Winterfell sighed and pulled out a worn letter from a pocket. “Read this.”

 

Benjen paled slightly when he saw the familiar writing of Lyanna, but by the time he was finished, there was no colour left in his face. “I will kill him. I will kill that bastard with his own hammer…” He had never been fond of Robert Baratheon, but to think that he used a lie to get on the Iron Throne….all the while claiming that he did it for _her_ made him sick. “No. We will do no such thing. It might endanger our nephew’s life.” “Then what should we do, Ned?” Eddard Stark had lost a lot of sleep over this question, before he had come to an answer. “We will play the game like a southerner would. We will bribe the right people in King’s Landing and make sure we are informed about each of Robert’s moves. And when we find out where they are hidden in Essos, you or I will go to see them.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s a stormy night”, Jon unnecessarily said and Dany nodded, forcing herself to make a joke. “Yes. That’s why I feel somewhat at ease, _Stormborn_ and all that.” They were both fourteen now, and they would be wed in less than two more years. It was a wedding they had known about for three years at that point, but it was a wedding they had suspected even years before - after all, the dragonlords of Old Valyria had wedded in the family for millennia. “Have you ever wished to live somewhere cooler? Sometimes I hope we’ll go to Norvos next.” Currently, they had been living in Old Volantis for three years and in Lys before that.

 

“Cooler?” Dany laughed and ran a hand through Jon’s thick, dark hair. She really wanted to kiss him then, but resisted. “You should by now know that it can’t _possibly_ be hot enough for me.” Unlike Jon, she craved the heat, and whenever there was a fire lit, she would sit the closest to it, no matter the temperatures. “I suppose you’d want it a bit cooler, though. After all, your mother came from the line of the Kings of Winter.” They sat in companionable silence for some time, before Jon wrapped an arm around his betrothed’s shoulders. “Why did you come here tonight?” He didn’t sound annoyed, merely curious. The two of them had shared a room before they moved to Volantis, where Arthur had sat them down and gave a speech about propriety and that they would share a room for the rest of their lives after their marriage.

 

“I had... _that_ dream again.” There was no need for her to explain it further. It was an old terror, a nightmare she had been having for years. Jon knew about it, just like Arthur, Gerold, Oswell and Ashara; and he recalled it quickly, remembering her voice as she first told them of the dream. “It’s all dark...the deepest black. But then there are stars and they come closer. For a moment, I am relieved, until I realise that the stars are not stars, but a mask. I think a woman is wearing it...and then she gives me a stern, warning look, as if she wants me to listen to her, and opens her mouth...and that’s when I wake up.” And sometimes wake up _screaming_ , that was how they discovered the dream. “But I know that I have to listen to her, and I think that one day, I will.”

 

In the end, Arthur had decided to tell them the truth, knowing that the two children would not stop asking. “There have been Targaryens throughout history that dreamed of things to come. Daenys, the Dreamer, had foretold the Doom of Valyria; and I know that your father, Jon, sometimes saw flashes of things to come in his dreams - albeit he insisted they were no dreams at all.” They pondered it over for some time. “But if my father had such dreams as well, why not me?” Gerold smiled a grandfatherly smile. “So says the boy who insisted that we take him to the one temple in Braavos with a weirwood tree - and kept going on about how he heard it whispering.” The confusion of the children made him laugh. “Oh, Jon. You are the King, the heir to the Iron Throne, but you are a Northerner, if I’ve ever met one.” “Like Uncle Benjen?” He had visited them twice in Lys. “Yes. And when we are going to take Westeros back, we will need both of it - your icy Northern blood and the fire of Old Valyria in Dany.”

 

“Dany...you know that none of us would ever let anything happen to you”, Jon murmured and held her close, breathing in her soothing smell of ember, fresh grass and smoke. “I know. But it’s different. I want to listen to her now. I...think whatever she will say will tilt the world on its axis; shift gravity itself. And still I wake up, biting my tongue to stop myself from screaming.” There was a lost look in her eyes, and their eyes locked, Northern grey and Valyrian purple and neither of them would ever know who made the first move. All that they would know, though, was that they were finally sharing a kiss. “Stay”, Jon murmured and pulled her down next to him. He made sure that his aunt was wrapped in a blanket though, and he wasn’t, so nobody would assume anything wrong.

 

It was the dream again, as old as her oldest memories, for the second time in one night: A darkness, only to be lit by the stars, stars that seemed to approach her. “It’s happening again”, Dany thought, knowing that the stars would be a mask, and behind the mask a woman. As she had grown older, she had developed that certain knowledge - she needed to listen to the woman, perhaps all their lives depended on that one fact. Yet, she never did, not until now. Even in this dream, she knew Jon was with her, holding her close to him. And when the woman moved her lips this time, she did not wake up. “To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow".” “ _Asshai_ ”, Dany thought. “What will we find there?” “The past. And the future. The dragons remember, Daenerys Stormborn. Will you?”

 

“It’s a very dangerous journey, no matter if we go by land or by sea.” Oswell was without his usual sardonic humour, for once. “Not by sea. It has to be a journey on land, or we are all doomed. You know about the recent robbery and shipwrecking in the summer storms”, Jon insisted. They had broken their fast not long ago, and Dany had decided to tell them about her dream. “No sea...that means Vaes Dothrak and then east again, over the Bones on one of the three roads with a caravan”, Gerold mused. None of them liked it, Asshai was at the edges of the known world, and a place as infamous as it was mysterious. Only the truly brave or the truly mad ever travelled there - in Oldtown, people used to say that a successful journey to Asshai would make any man rich for the rest of his life. Nobody of them really wanted to go, but all of them knew it wasn’t a matter of want. If destiny itself was calling them to Asshai, the way destiny had called the Targaryens of old to Dragonstone, who were they to oppose it?

 

In the end, they had decided to pose as a wealthy widow from Lys, with her three sellswords, her daughter and her son-in-law, joining a khalasar as merchants, to Vaes Dothrak, and then continue from there. It was not common for a woman to have her own business, but whenever Ashara whispered _“Asshai”_ everyone around her fell silent. Nobody rode there without a purpose, and in a city known for sorcery and its darkness, even at daytime, business was very private. The journey was long and often unpleasant, especially since they rode in the back of the khalasar, as befit for traders. But coin could buy a lot of things, and another merchant didn’t mind teaching them some basic Dothraki. He made the journey to Vaes Dothrak twice a year, and hoped he had enough money to never leave Myr in a few years.

 

Finding a guide through the mountain range turned out easier than they had suspected. Jon had found a caravan that would head back to Asshai in a few days, so besides buying things to trade, the most of their money was spend on an abundance of supplies, as well as a spare horse. The horses would not survive the journey, though, they knew that - there were no animals in Asshai, and if they were, they were hidden from the eyes. But the journey would be long and they wanted to make sure they were prepared.

 

* * *

 

 

If their journey through the Dothraki Sea was difficult, their journey to the further east was horrible. The paths through the mountains were barely there and it didn’t get any easier once they reached Yi Ti. Nobody dared to ask how much longer it would take, living their lives day by day, leaving Westeros and the Iron Throne even more behind them with each passing hour. “How can you be so sure we’ll make it?” Jon had whispered in Dany’s ear one night. They weren’t sixteen yet, so they were still unmarried, but they had agreed that having her in his presence constantly was the surest way to keep her safe, just as Arthur was watching out for his sister.

 

Unlike their time with the khalasar, this caravan travelled mostly silently. The small groups still talked, of course, but always in low voices. It fit, of course, there were a few shadowbinders with them, and business in Asshai was never done out in the open where anyone could see. “It’s...I just feel it. I know it. Just like I know that I love you and care for Arthur, Ashara, Gerold and Oswell. She...told me her name last night; and where we will find her.” Jon frowned as he held her close. “What will we find there?” “I don’t know, Jon. The past. The future. The truth...I have never been good with riddles. You are the more patient one, the more thoughtful one.” Later, when her even breathing told him that his betrothed was asleep, he thought of the weirwood tree in Braavos. It _had_ whispered to him, and he had taken the words to his heart, words that were the Stark words. “Winter Is Coming…”

 

This night, he dreamed of the weirwood tree in the snow again. He had seen it a few times before, as he knew Dany dreamt of dragons and fire, and it always calmed him down, the way Dany calmed him when he got hurt while training with a sword or bow or arakh. As he approached it, he felt it whispering to him. “Hear the weirwood whisper”, he told himself and knelt down next to it, waiting. “The wheel of fate keeps spinning...turning...8000 years ago. Follow the steps of him, known as Hyrkoon the Hero - Eldric Shadowchaser - Yin Tar - Neferion - _Azor Ahai_...the Dead will rise again to destroy life. Bring them fire. Bring them blood…”

 

“We are nearly there.” Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, had begun to feel his age lately. The strength hadn’t left him yet, and his eyes were still sharp, and he suspected he would be able to protect the King and his Queen for a little while longer. But knowing that Jon’s swordmanship and diplomacy would surpass those of most in the Seven Kingdoms soothed him. The young king might not win against Arthur, but that was not expected of anyone. Ser Oswell had thought him how to use a bow and an axe, he taught Jon and Dany diplomacy and High Valyrian. Ashara - how grateful he was that she had been with them - had been like an aunt to them, caring for them and teaching them about the noble houses and geography of Westeros. And now, against all odds, they were at the edge of the known world, staring down at the fabled city of Asshai-by-the-Shadow.

 

“It looks...like no other city I have ever seen”, Oswell whispered. Asshai was easily the biggest city they had ever seen, likely bigger than Old Volantis, Lys, Braavos and Tyrosh combined. Yet it looked...dark. Gloomy. “They say the sun never rises or sets in Asshai. The stones that make up the city seem to _absorb_ all of it.” The caravan had stopped and one of the shadowbinders moved from group to group, whispering in Valyrian and Asshaian, telling them to cloak themselves and hide their faces. They had already sold their horses in the last city they passed - the last three days had been spent on foot, knowing that there were no horses in Asshai. It was something told to everyone who dared to venture east in Vaes Dothrak, as well as the fact that it was custom in Asshai to hide one’s face. So they grabbed their matching cloaks - black with a red trim - and prepared for their arrival.

 

Asshai might have been the most imposing city they had ever been to. Towers and houses, all carved from black. Grey fog everywhere, the darkness around them...and still, an exotic smell in the air. Yet very few people moved through the city. For a town of this size, it felt as if nobody lived in this city at all. But it was another unspoken rule - no weird discussions in the streets. “It’s over there. The second door on the right.” The house they had headed to looked exactly like the one on its left side, but Dany was sure of her steps. “No, let me knock. It might be a trap”, Oswell insisted and stepped in front of her. Yet all of them somehow felt that it _wasn’t_. “The door is open”, he said as it opened at the lightest touch. Together, the rightful King of Westeros, his Queen-to-be, their three Kingsguard and the Dornish noblewoman, entered the home of a woman with a mask made of starlight.

 

“Enter and have a seat. I have been waiting for you...all of you: Wolf. Dragon. Bull. Bat. Dawn. Fallen Star.” Behind them, the door closed and they watched the woman in front of them. Unlike in her dreams, she was not wearing a mask of starlight, but a golden mask that shimmered in the light of a hundred candles. “It seems you know who we are. Who are you?” Jon stood as straight as he could, injecting as much authority in his voice as he could. There was a low chuckle as his grey eyes looked at brown ones. “I suppose you can call me Quaithe. I am a shadowbinder of this illustrious town.” “Why have you appeared in my dreams for as long as I can remember?” “So you would pass beneath the shadow. I led you here, because you are meant to be here.”

 

Arthur felt a headache beginning at his temples. His best friend Rhaegar would have liked this infuriating woman, he supposed. Talking in riddles, speaking as vague as possible...but he couldn’t deny the aura she excluded. An aura felt by everyone in the room, he noted, as he slowly looked around. “And why are we meant to be here?” After all the time in exile, his little sister had grown up, and she had sworn to him one late evening, that she would make him proud, as proud as he made her. “Why, for a wedding, of course.” “A wedding?” Ashara echoed and this time, Quaithe laughed. “Yes. A wedding.” She pointed to Jon and Dany. “Their wedding.”

 

“It is true that we are betrothed. But…” Part of Jon wanted to protest, but he started calculating in his head. Was it possible that both of them had seen their sixteenth nameday on the road to Asshai? It was possible, of course, with no real means to measure the time. “Both of you have seen their sixteenth nameday”, Arthur said, having come to the same conclusion as Jon. “Yes. And while we do not have weirwood trees, we have other gods here in Asshai. Red R’hollor is known even in the west, and you don’t have faith in any god anyway, do you, Daenerys Stormborn?” How could she possibly know that? Jon frowned, trying to make sense with that woman. Yes, the other persons in the room knew that he followed the Old Gods of the forest, but how did a sorceress from Asshai know that? How did she know that Dany did not believe in any of the hundred gods they got to know in Braavos? “Rest here for the night, and tomorrow, you will be wed. You will be safe in Asshai - _as long as you don’t venture out alone in the night._ ”

 

None of them liked it, but they were sure that she did not want any of them death, in fact, she would have probably killed them already if she wanted to. She had shown the small group three identical rooms, and they quickly decided that Ashara, Dany and Arthur would share one room, with Arthur as a guard, and the two other Kingsguard would make sure nothing happened to Jon. A long night awaited all of them.

 

* * *

 

 

In his dream, he saw a man standing next to him. He looked like the people from Yi Ti they had encountered during their journey to the east, with a decorated helmet and golden armour. While he stared at the darkness behind Jon, snow started falling from the sky. The temperature fell, and Jon’s breath became visible with each breath he took. The warrior from Yi Ti unsheathed his sword - and it burned like the sun. Bright as the break of dawn, it was, and when the figures from the shadows crept closer, he destroyed all of them. “Beware”, the warrior whispered, “for this day will last millennia, but the Dead will still be on the march. When the Wall falls, it brings another dusk. Winter Is Coming - and you can only win the war against it with all the might of Fire And Blood.”

 

The day was almost as dark as the evening in Asshai. Jon was silent as their group made their way to the Temple of the Red God. Unlike the one in Volantis, the temple in Asshai seemed to be rather small. There were fires lit outside, but even their light did not seem to compete against the blackness of the stone. He had often thought about his wedding in the past three or four years, but it still felt surreal to him. Deep inside, Jon had wished for them to have a Northern marriage in front of a weirwood tree and the Old Gods, but it wasn’t really possible in Essos. Dany would have likely agreed, knowing that it would make him happy - she didn’t care about any gods anyway. R’hollor was not too bad, he supposed, at least it was a religion that some people in Westeros knew about, unlike the Lion of the Night. And there was something almost poetical about a marriage between two Targaryens that would be blessed by fire.

 

Dany couldn’t help but watch the flames. It had been an obsession of her since she was a toddler. The flames always called her name, whispering to her, urging her to come closer. She always felt reminded of the dreams of Quaithe she had, but the flames did not scare her. She barely listened to the priestess who had switched to Valyrian for their ceremony, and focused on her nephew instead. All her life, she had felt the safest with him. They led a simple - and fearful - life, but the Kingsguard and Ashara always did their best to make them feel safe and loved. Oswell would joke and Gerold would tell stories in his deep, gruff voice; Ashara would sing to them and Arthur’s very presence had always calmed them down. They had been luckier than expected, she mused. Jon and she had been inseparable and the depth of her own feelings sometimes surprised even her. The last ritual was conducted and she saw a brilliant smile on Jon’s face before he leaned down to kiss her, binding them together.

 

“I have two gifts prepared for you”, Quaithe said, “but since I suspect that you have other _duties_ tonight, I will present them to you in the morning.” Both Targaryens blushed at the implication. They might have shared their blanket on the journey across Essos, and kissed each other, but never even attempted something more. “I...I guess we will see each other in the morning then”, Jon replied, interlacing his fingers with Dany’s and leading her to the room he was staying in.

 

Oswell sighed and rubbed his temples after they had left. “What’s wrong?” Ashara wanted to know. “It’s just...I was thinking about Jaime Lannister.” “He broke his oath”, Gerold reminded his brother, sternly, but deep inside; he already knew what Oswell would say. “Why would you think about him on a night like this?” “Jaime was always the one most concerned about Queen Rhaella, the way Arthur here has always been most concerned about Prince Rhaegar. The stories are true. Whenever Aerys had burned someone, he would spend the night raping his wife.” Ashara’s confused expression became disgusted. “He was the King; there was nothing we could do. But I think Jaime considered killing him after he first witnessed it.” The silence was so heavy that it felt as if the air had been turned to water. “And I can’t help but think about how different the relationship between Jon and Dany is, and be glad that he would never do _anything_ like that.”

 

“So...erm…” Damn, when had talking to Dany ever been so difficult? Jon suspected that it had to do with the fact that they had steered into unchartered territory tonight. They both technically knew what to do - Ashara and Arthur had made sure of that - but it was entirely different now. Dany pressed another kiss on his lips, enjoying his scent, earthy, like the forest after a summer rain. “I have no id…” he began, but she pressed a finger on his lips. “Me neither, Jon. But we will learn together.”

 

Two boxes awaited them in the main room. “Your wedding gifts”, Quaithe told them and looked at Jon. “The longer one is yours.” For a moment, he suspected a trap, but the fact that all of them were still alive was too evident to ignore, even though her motives were still in the dark. He knelt down next to the box, fumbling with the heavy clasp. No matter what it was, the box itself was impressively heavy and sturdy. Taking a deep breath to settle himself, he opened it. Around him, everyone gasped. In front of him lay a sword - a greatsword that equalled Dawn in size, but looked utterly different. The Valyrian steel blade shimmered in the dim light, going from silver to black and back again, the crossguard was adorned with flames. And the round pommel featured the symbol of House Targaryen - a red dragon on pitch black.

 

“But it’s been lost…” Arthur murmured. Never mind that, he thought, it’s been found again on the edge of the world. There was no way any of the Kingsguard could mistake this blade, a blade that almost brought an end to the Targaryen rule, in the hands of a bastard that named himself after it. “ _Blackfyre_ ”, Jon muttered and lifted it from the box. Despite its size, it felt surprisingly light - courtesy of the Valyrian steel. “It was sent here decades ago. The last sorcerer in Westeros sent it here, knowing it would be safe until the last Targaryens would come here in the hour of their House’s most dire need.” “It’s worth a fortune. Why did you keep it, instead of using it for yourself?” Gerold asked, looking at the shadowbinder. But she pointedly ignored him and looked at Dany instead. “Open your present now. And after that, I will explain the truth.”

 

Like everyone else, Dany had been extremely impressed by the sword, a sword finally returned back to House Targaryen, after the end of the Blackfyre pretenders. What could she possibly be given? The box waiting for her was bigger and as she opened it, her heart missed a beat or two. “Dragon eggs…” she whispered. They were worth a fortune as well, perhaps as much as the ancient blade, but likely even more. And three of them - she slowly reached for the egg that reminded her of her dreams, all black with scarlet on it. Despite looking like stone, it felt warm to her, hot even, warmed by a fire that seemed to match the beat of her own heart. The last Westerosi dragon eggs had been lost at Summerhall, but it seemed that there had been still more in Essos.

 

“Magic in Westeros had died out with the Children of the Forest. Three centuries ago, the Targaryens and their dragons brought it back to this forsaken land. But it cost them greatly - the dragons were chained up, grew smaller, and died. And slowly, but steadily, the magic disappeared again. The last time it was strong was in Brynden Rivers, but it was always dormant in the Targaryen blood, waiting to be woken again.” Quaithe disappeared for a moment. “That’s a glass candle!” Ser Gerold Hightower had seen them in the Citadel in Oldtown when he was a young man, but they hadn’t been _burning_.

 

“Indeed, Ser Gerold the Bull. It started flickering again when you were born”, she replied, looking at Jon, before her eyes met Dany’s again. “And it started burning while the storm raged and you were born.” For a moment, time seemed to stand still. “Magic has stirred in Westeros even before the two of you were born, a dark, twisted magic. Currently, it is hidden behind a frozen wall, but it will break free, trying to destroy humanity, as it did thousands of years ago.” Jon ran a hand through his dark hair. “When it was stopped by Eldric Shadowchaser?” he asked, despite knowing that he was right. “Indeed. His name differs, depending on who you ask, but his deeds are always the same. With Lightbringer in hand, he fought off darkness and death, to bring a new dawn.” “But was he alive? Was he more than a myth, more than a shadow?” “It depends on who you ask. But here, in Asshai, the truth is known. He was the most famous, most notorious shadowbinder who had ever lived. He _chased_ the shadows and they did his bidding, giving him the fabled Lightbringer. And now the Dead rise again in the North.”

 

“We don’t even have enough men to help these two take the Iron Throne! And you want us to fight off myths, somewhere in the Lands of Always Winter?” Arthur sounded annoyed and tired at the same time. “Oh, but there are more than enough men to fight for you, you just have to find them.” Using up every ounce of self-control, Jon refrained from rolling his eyes. For all that Westeros knew, Rhaegar had abducted and raped Lyanna and while Queen Rhaella had lived long enough to give birth to her daughter, nobody knew anything of Dany besides the fact this young woman was _probably_ residing in Essos. “Almost nobody besides the people in this room even know I am alive, let alone their king. They will likely not question Dany’s claim, but from the reports we heard, the Lannisters rule Westeros now. And I am pretty sure they will start spreading some more anti-Targaryen propaganda as soon and fast as they can.”

 

Dany gave her husband’s hand a squeeze. “We spent all our lives in exile. While there _might_ be a few Houses willing to support us, it would never be enough. We would need thousands of people fighting for us, infantry and cavalry, if we intend to hold Westeros. Nobody has that many people.” Gerold watched the two and felt his heart break a bit. They had both understood from a young age how important a low profile was for all of them, and rarely forgot it. That was probably why there had been a lot less people out to kill them than the Kingsguard had expected. But hearing that neither of them had even hoped to ever take Westeros back was gut-wrenching. Houses Dayne and Hightower would support them, perhaps even all of Dorne, but Dorne had never been famous for fighting on the field. While Ned Stark was still important in the North, the fight with the Boltons had cost many Northmens’ lives and they would probably be unwilling to travel south. Some sellsword companies like the Golden Company or the Second Sons might have enough manpower to help them, but what coin did they have to pay them? It had always been an illusion, he realized, a hopeless dream.

 

* * *

 

 

“No, it’s not hopeless at all. Watch the glass candle; see which places it shows you. That’s where you will get your armies.” Lifting an eyebrow, Jon focused on the far too bright light that enhanced the colours of the room. He saw the sea, and city that might be the Port of Ibben, and after that a small town, unlike the towns in Essos. A huge castle with a godswood and a weirwood tree...with wolf banners on the walls - clearly, Winterfell. After that, a Wall of ice...and beyond it, a huge camp. Lastly, an island in the sea, protected by dragons carved from stone: _Dragonstone_. “Wildlings?” he mouthed, unsure of it. Living in Essos - a continent where _slavery_ was promoted had made him open towards other people, and he had sworn that he would judge everyone by their actions. “The Freefolk, they name themselves. They might not knell, but they will follow a common course: Flee from the enemy in the North, south beyond the Wall. If you fight their King beyond the Wall and win – either with words or a sword...and allow them to pass, there might be hundreds, if not thousands of people willing to fight the darkness for you.”

 

Wondering how Jon had even been able to see anything in this light, Dany forced herself to look away from the dragon eggs and into the glass candle. A city with a red brick plaza near the sea; overlooked by a wild, golden harpy: The Harpy, the symbol of Old Ghiz, the empire that had been defeated by the dragonlords of Old Valyria. First, it was Astapor, and then Yunkai and Meeren, the three cities in Slaver’s Bay. She saw all of them, and then the vast greens of the Dothraki Sea, as well as Vaes Dothrak again. Lastly, she saw an island that could only be Dragonstone, with the waves crashing at the shores and the stone dragons protecting the castle, the old Westerosi seat of House Targaryen.

 

Unlike Jon, she didn’t dare to ask about Slaver’s Bay. Living in Lys and Old Volantis had made her sensitive to the suffering and treatment of slaves. Astapor meant Unsullied, the elite slave eunuchs, the best infantry in Essos - and perhaps also in Westeros, Sothoryos and Ulthos. But she was unsure about it. Buying people was a barbaric custom, and coming to Westeros with an army of slaves would surely not be appreciated. And deep inside, she knew that there was one thing they needed for the conquest to work - dragons. They needed real dragons, not the ones that had been carved from stone. Also, there was no way the Dothraki would follow her. While travelling in the khalasar, she had learnt that they didn’t care about trading, and that they respected strength above anything else. And how should she show them enough strength to make them follow her?

 

The discussion that followed was long and grave. But in the end, it came down to one decision - spend all of Jon’s and Dany’s lives in exile; or fight and take back Westeros with Fire And Blood. Jon and Dany shared a knowing look. While fate would ultimately bring them back together on Dragonstone, they would likely spend years apart from each other, after just having wed. “There is another issue. The war will probably not be about the Iron Throne at all, but about the threat from the Lands of Always Winter.” Jon sounded subdued. “Who will try to fight it, if Dany and I decide to stay in Essos and live in the Free Cities?” Quaithe, who had been silent the whole time, gave them the answer they had feared and still suspected. “Nobody. The world will be overrun and the darkness will never end.”

 

“I don’t want to leave you”, Jon whispered as he held his wife in his arms in their bed. “I don’t want us to be apart, either...but I don’t think we have a choice.” He tightened his embrace and sighed in frustration. “It’s not as if we ever had a choice. The Daynes, Oswell and Gerold cared a lot for us, but because of us, they had to live in exile as well. And we had to spend our lives here because the damned Stag would rip us apart with his own hands if he ever saw us.” Dany gently brushed a strand of dark hair from his face. “It could have been worse. We could have been royal beggars in Essos, dependent on the support of people with agendas totally their own. They cared about us far more than duty demanded of them...and we always had each other, Jon.” She pressed a soft kiss on his lips and he sighed. “You are right. It could have been worse. I could have grown up in Westeros, perhaps as Uncle Benjen’s bastard.” He shuddered at that thought - along with all other hardships; it would have meant a life without Dany.

 

“So two more nights and we will part for years…” Dany sounded wistfully. “Years...that has a truly awful ring to it, doesn’t it?” In the end, their group would part ways soon. Jon and Arthur would travel to the Port of Ibben with a caravan that left three days from then and when at Ibben, they would set sail to the North, heading to Winterfell. Dany and Oswell would board a ship to Astapor that would leave in a fortnight. Ashara and Gerold had decided that they would board a ship to Pentos and continue to sail to Dorne from there, trying to acquire Westerosi allies for them. “But I have the feeling that we will be reunited on Dragonstone, so no matter what will happen, we will find each other again. Even if it takes years, I will always love you.” Jon appreciated her words and deep inside, he knew she was right. “I love you; too, Dany....and we will be together again. And then, we will defeat whatever lurks in the darkness...for us. For our family. We’re going to make this world a better place for our children.”

 

The night after Jon’s and Arthur’s departure, Dany stared at the dragon eggs...they still felt warm to her, although Oswell had told her that the eggs felt like stone for him. “Oswell...we will head to the Red Temple tomorrow...there is something I need to do.” The Red Temple was the place where a fire kept burning the whole time, a huge, consuming fire with trees from all edges of the world. It was that fire she needed. Holding the eggs in her arms, she ignored all the shouts from her surrogate family, as well as the thoughtful looks on the Priestesses’ faces and stepped into the flames. When she emerged again, her clothes burnt off her body, she wasn’t alone anymore. In her arms, she cradled three tiny dragons - black and scarlet; green and bronze; cream and gold. And everyone who her sank to their knees.

 

When Dany and Oswell boarded the ship ten days later, the three dragons were no longer nameless. The cream one was named Viserion, after her brother who died in the Narrow Sea mere hours before she was born. Looking at the green one made her think of her Jon - and his earthy forest scent - so she called him Rhaegal, after Jon’s father and her brother. While all three dragons followed her, the black one seemed to stick closest to her, though, and in way she already felt that they would have the closest bond. Hyrkoon was its name, after the fabled hero who fought the darkness when it first rose. The captain of the ship had been hesitant at first, but the chance to ferry three dragons - and live to tell the tale later - was too good to pass. “I will miss both of you”, Dany whispered and hugged Ashara and Gerold. Their ship would leave in two days. Deep inside, she knew that it would probably the last time she ever saw Ser Gerold, who had been the oldest of the three Kingsguard.

 

* * *

 

 

“How do you feel about going to the North, to your family’s home?” Arthur wanted to know. Jon had been mostly quiet throughout their journey. “I won’t be going home, not really, Arthur. Winterfell has never been my home in the way Starfall was yours. I suppose the only home my father’s family truly knew in Westeros was Dragonstone. And I have never been there.” His home, for as long as he could remember, was with Dany; and Arthur and the others. “Have you sometimes wished for another life, Arthur? A life you didn’t spend looking after Dany and me?” The Sword of the Morning looked at his surrogate son, perplexed. “Even if I hadn’t been bound by my oath of duty, your father was my best friend. No matter what, as long as I am alive to protect you, I will do so.”

 

While Jon looked nothing like Rhaegar, he had his father’s sometimes sombre mood. Few things, like swordplay, made him smile, and only Dany had ever been able to make him beam with joy. “I know you miss her, Jon, but you will see each other again”, Arthur murmured, hoping it would cheer the young man up. “We loved each other for most of our lives, Arthur. And I just had her, only to let her go again.” The Dornishman shook his head. “No. You did not let her go. She is your wife, and she will be until one of you draws their last breath. Also, now that you have that sword back, I am sure you want to give it to your children one day.”

 

“Do you smell the change in the air?” Arthur wanted to know and Jon nodded. It was cold and crisp, as it had been during their journey across the Shivering Sea, but the saltiness was slowly being replaced by something else, a wooden smell. “Aye”, Jon replied, looking at the steadily approaching land. “Welcome to your country and your home. Welcome to Westeros.” They would arrive in White Harbor and send a raven to Ned and Benjen Stark at Winterfell, and then wait for a reply before they would travel there. “It doesn’t feel like home”, Jon murmured, thinking of violet eyes and silvery-blonde hair and the scent of ember, fresh grass and smoke.

 

Benjen’s raven had arrived a few days after they had landed in the city, and he asked them to wait for him, that he would escort them to Winterfell himself. “This waiting is making me anxious”, Jon muttered, walking up and down in front of Arthur. He was nearing his eighteens nameday and being a young man hadn’t improved his patience at all. The Old Gods showed him mercy, though, as the door opened and Benjen Stark entered. It had been years since their last meeting in Lys, but with their similar looks, there was no way mistaking him. “Uncle Benjen!” The man smiled at his nephew and patted his shoulder. “Now look at you, a man grown”, he murmured. Lyanna was everywhere for the eye to see; but her son was calmer, more composed. He had the looks and the character of a true Northerner, but not nearly as much of Lyanna’s wolf’s blood.

 

The ride to Winterfell was mostly quiet, but Benjen decided he would fill them in on the developments in Westeros. “After Ned came home with Lyanna’s body, he was never the same again. His friendship with the Stag was broken beyond repair and honestly, I wish his heart would have given out sooner. King Whore, they called him, for he obviously tried to bed most of the women in the realm. He wasted gold and silver on tourneys and festivities, leaving the crown in dept, especially at the Lannisters and the Iron Bank of Braavos. Rumour has it that his heart gave out when he tried to bed a woman half his age. He was followed by his alleged son Joffrey Baratheon, but that boy, his brother and sister, are likely all Lannister - the Queen’s own brother being their father.”

 

“After his death, the realm almost broke into pieces. The North decided to stay neutral, but in the Reach, two brothers both wanted the Iron Throne: Renly and Stannis Baratheon. Nobody knows exactly what happened between them, but it ended with Renly’s death on Stannis’ orders. Stannis then sailed his ships to King’s Landing, only to have most of his supporters die there. They made an elaborate trap, inflaming all his ships, killing hundreds of his supporters. After that, they sent soldiers to Dragonstone, to take out Stannis and all his supporters.” Jon kept his face smooth, but deep inside, he felt as if Stannis deserved to die there. “No matter his motives, he was a kinslayer”, he thought, but knew it was not the complete truth. He had also resided on Dragonstone, invaded a castle he did not belong in, a castle that belonged to the Targaryens.

 

“In King’s Landing, Renly’s widow, Margaery Tyrell wed Joffrey Baratheon, but he died during their wedding feast. Cersei Lannister had her own brother, Tyrion, arrested. Her daughter, Myrcella, died shortly after her return from Dorne. Currently, Tommen Baratheon sits on the Iron Throne, his mother’s puppet.” Arthur cleared his throat. “But what about Tywin? He would surely not allow his daughter to rule.” Benjen snorted at that, as if he tried to hide a laugh. “He was found dead, shot by a crossbow. The same night, Tyrion the Imp disappeared from the Black Cells.”

 

Jon pondered all of it over. The political situation was worse than he suspected but he noticed the chance handed to him. If he was successful in rallying the Wildlings and Dany succeeded in finding them an army in Essos, Westeros was theirs for the taking. “And the situation in the North? I was a boy when we last met in Lys and I seem to recall that things had been tense after my mother’s death.” Benjen sighed at that, it was definitely a sore spot for the Stark family. “Ned refused to talk to Robert Baratheon ever since. We managed to place a few people in King’s Landing that gathered information for us. The more we heard about Robert’s whoring and drinking habits, the more disgusted Ned became with him. I think that he will regret not taking the Iron Throne for the rest of his life. When the Greyjoy family rebelled against Robert, Winterfell refused the call. It was Roose Bolton who was very eager to help the Baratheons...killing was like a sport to him. In the end, his loyalty was rewarded with the title of Warden of the North.”

 

“You mean the Stag spat into Lord Eddard’s face, taking away the title bestowed on the Stark family by Aegon The Conqueror himself?” There was a hint of rage in Jon’s voice. It obviously wasn’t enough that Dany and he had grown up in exile; the man who killed his father and rewarded the murder of his half-brother and half-sister had gone ahead and tried to destroy his mother’s family as well. “Not for long. Bolton proved as unstable as he had always been suspected to be. Immediately after Robert’s death, your eldest cousin, Robb, declared the North to be independent and Ned supported his son. The Lannisters sent armies up here, and many Northmen lost their lives, including Robb himself. But we had unexpected help from the Ironborn, who helped us turn the tide. They hadn’t forgotten Bolton’s role in ending their rebellion, and Yara Greyjoy led them to the Dreadfort to free her little brother, Theon. It was their chance to take revenge on him, in the end the Dreadfort was destroyed and Bolton’s bastard son, Ramsay Snow, was executed by Ned. He had sneaked into Winterfell, killing my nephew Rickon Stark and then proceeded to try and kill his elder brother Brandon. He claimed that if his family ended, so should the male Stark line. The guards saved Bran, but he will probably never walk again.”

 

The pain had been evident in Benjen’s voice, but he knew that they needed the truth. “A great many injustices have been done under the rule of the Usurper. I vow to do my best to prevent any more wrongs. I cannot bring my two cousins back to life, but I can try to make sure nothing like that ever happens again.” For the first time since he started filling them in on the events, Benjen smiled. “He would have liked you, I think, _a lot_. Your cousin Robb, I mean. He refused to accept the unjust decisions from King’s Landing as well.” “Why was his name Robb, by the way? I thought that Eddard Stark choose his sister over his so-called best friend?” Arthur inquired and the Stark man shrugged. “It was his wife who named him Robb, before Ned even returned to her. And with Baratheon on the throne, there wasn’t much he could do about it.”

 

The rest of the ride to Winterfell was quiet and it reminded Jon of his journey across Essos. Once again, he was in an unfamiliar land, but this time with only Arthur to support him. At night, he often lay awake, wishing Dany was here with him. Oswell would keep her safe at all costs, but he would try to send support to her in Slaver’s Bay. But it wasn’t only that. He would never feel at home or at ease in Westeros without her by his side. Hoping she would think of him as well, Jon fell asleep.

 

They arrived at Winterfell so late that the sun had already set. Before entering, both Jon and Arthur pulled up the hoods of their cloaks, making sure nobody would see them before they could talk to Lord Eddard Stark. Benjen handled the guards and led them to the entrance of the crypts, before leaving to fetch his brother. Slowly, the young King and his Kingsguard entered the lair of the old Kings of Winter. There were many men, with swords in hand and direwolves at their feet, but it was the only female statue they wanted to see. “Mother…” Jon whispered and studied the statue. Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling gently at him. “She looks...stern.” “She wasn’t. Whoever made this statue has probably never seen her. Lyanna was one of the kindest women I have ever met, but she was also fierce and wild”, Arthur replied. He and his brothers had told the two Targaryens stories about Lyanna, Rhaegar and Rhaella, but the beautiful yet harsh features would have made him question them as well, if he hadn’t known the She-Wolf personally.

 

They were approached by Benjen and Eddard Stark, who watched the statue as well. “I hate it as well. This statue shows a woman...a beautiful woman, but it lacks her _soul_. Lyanna had the wolf’s blood...if you want to truly see her, my daughter Arya reminds me so much of her that I am scared sometimes.” “Lord Stark”, Arthur greeted and Jon removed the hood. “Lord Eddard Stark.” Ned looked at his nephew, seeing him for the first time. The dim light did nothing to diminish his Stark look...the grey eyes and the black hair were so much like him, Benjen, Arya and his dead sister that he was truly surprised, although Benjen had told him about his nephew’s appearance. But Rhaegar Targaryen was there as well, in his curly hair, the shape of his nose and jaw. Aegon Targaryen was a dragon, but also a wolf if he ever saw one - a _Dragonwolf_ , indeed.

 

“My King. It is a pleasure to finally see you in Winterfell. I trust your journey was pleasant?” Jon and Arthur exchanged a knowing look. “The journey from White Harbor was surely more pleasant than our journey to Asshai.” Ned looked at them, frowning. “You have been to Asshai? Very few people in Westeros can claim that. What brought you there, if I may ask?” “We were led there by my wife’s dreams of a shadowbinder. And I found a very important piece of Targaryen family history there.” Jon reached at his back and unsheathed the sword. It was a little smaller and less broad than Ice, but that only meant it could actually be used in battle, and not only as a ceremonial sword. “I present you the long lost blade of my ancestors, the blade Aegon the Conqueror wielded when he rode Balerion west from Dragonstone: Blackfyre.” The implication of him owning the sword would be more than enough to rally at least some old Targaryen loyalist families behind him. After all, Aegon the Unworthy’s death led to a lengthy discussion whether Blackfyre had more value in identifying a Targaryen king than any crown.

 

“There might still be people who would refuse to follow you, claiming that there is another Targaryen out there with no doubts about her heritage or legitimation”, Ned started, and for the first time, his nephew started smiling. “Then it is a good thing that Dan...Daenerys Stormborn is not only my aunt, but also my Queen - my wife.” It was a detail both he and Arthur hadn’t told Benjen either. While Lyanna’s letter, the marriage certificate and Arthur’s story were probably enough to sway some people, it was no guarantee. But Baratheon had sent assassins after Daenerys Stormborn ever since he heard of her existence and his marriage to her meant that whoever still believed in the Targaryens would probably follow him in the fights to come.

 

* * *

 

 

“What have you planned to do? I don’t think you truly plan to buy the Unsullied.” The winds had been kind and Daenerys and Oswell had reached Astapor in Slaver’s Bay the night before. It seemed that dragons liked fish almost as well as they liked meat, so all three of her children were thriving and had grown a lot in the months on the sea. “Eight thousand Unsullied...I do have an idea, but I don’t think I can tell you yet, Oswell. It’s...it’s just wrong. The way Kraznys mo Nakloz treats them. People are not wares to be bought and sold off to the highest bidder.” Dany reached out and stroked Hyrkoon, absent-minded. “I will retire soon. Tomorrow will be hard enough if I am awake.”

 

The plaza was hot already when she entered it on the next morning. Oswell was at her side when she made her way to Kraznys. She bit her tongue, forcing herself to ignore his continuous insults as she grabbed the whip. It was true, the Unsullied followed every command she gave them, and when the slave master complained that Hyrkoon refused to come to him, she smiled at him. “ _Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor._ ” And with that, she ordered the Unsullied to slay the masters and her dragon to burn Kraznyz. “ _Dracarys._ ” She wouldn’t be completely sure of it, but she thought that there was a lot of pride in the smile Oswell gave her. As soon as there was no slave left in chains in Astapor, she freed her Unsullied, but all of them stayed to fight for her, as well as the translator Kraznys had used, a young woman called Missandei, of the isles of Naarth. She had the world’s best infantry, as well as her dragons - but the glass candle had shown her Yunkai and Meereen, too, and Vaes Dothrak. Her mission to acquire an army for Jon and herself in Essos was far from over; but she also wanted to bring the slave masters what they deserved for the way they used human beings: Fire And Blood. With that thought in mind, she smiled at Oswell, Missandei and the Commander the Unsullied had chosen themselves, Grey Worm. “There are two hundred-thousand slaves in Yunkai. So we will head there next.”

 

Dany thought of Jon when Daario Naharis knelt down in front of her. Oswell had seen him trying to sneak into her tent, and followed him, ready to kill him if necessary. It turned out it wasn’t necessary because he showed her the heads of his former captains, and swore the Second Sons to her. “Jon would geld him for the sheer way this man looks at me, and rightfully so”, Dany thought as she laid down later that night. She missed him a lot, his humour, his smile, his way to calm her down. They had shared their hopes and dreams with each other for over ten years, and while she was on a dangerous mission in Essos, she feared more for his life than her own. He was alone in a land they had never seen, with only Arthur to protect him. A big part of her, a selfish part, had wanted to accept Razdal mo Eraz’ offer and sailed west with her Unsullied, so she could see him again; but when Yunkai’s slaves flooded out of the gates, finally free - calling her _Mhysa_ \- she knew that this was worth postponing the reunion with her husband.

 

If she had thought she could estimate the Masters’ cruelty, she had to readjust her opinion when she saw the first dead girl nailed to a milepost. “How many mileposts are there to Meereen?” Dany asked, anger rising in her chest. “One hundred and sixty-three, Your Grace”, Missandei replied. “So I can expect a hundred and sixty-two more innocent children dead. Oswell...we will find out which masters did this. And as soon as we will know, I will crucify _them_.” The Kingsguard looked at the Queen, and her anger, and nodded. “I will crucify them myself, if needed”, he promised the young woman. “They will learn that the time of injustice is over - and I will answer their injustice with justice.”

 

When she finally stood on top of the Great Pyramid in Meereen, looking up at the banner of her House, flowing in the wind for everyone to see, Dany took a deep breath. Beneath her boots, the cities of Slaver’s Bay had fallen - Astapor had been taken by using the Masters’ means against them; Yunkai by tricking the Masters...and Meereen by the former slaves themselves. It were ninety-four Masters that had been crucified in the end, and when the first family would come forward, asking her to allow a burial, she would do so. “What next, Dany?” She turned around and looked at Oswell. He was the only one left in Essos who used that nickname when he addressed her. “I don’t think our time in Essos is over yet. But the Masters surely want revenge on me. And when they try it, we will answer it - with Fire And Blood.”

 

“Hyrkoon”, she whispered and watched her favourite dragon approach her on the balcony. They had grown fast, and soon enough, he would be big and strong enough to carry her weight. She extended her hand, petting her dragon. “I miss him so much. Jon. I think of him every time I see your brother Rhaegal.” Her dragon watched her, allowing her to stroke his scales for a while, before taking off again; they had grown independent lately. Right now, the city was calm - Red Priests were praising her as R’hollor’s chosen, the Masters still too afraid to fight her yet - but the storms would come and they would be ready.

 

* * *

 

 

“I want you to meet someone”, Ned Stark told his family, as he had assembled them in his solar. His family first, and after that his bannermen, that was how they had decided it. Bran looked at him, with a knowing look and Ned wondered what more had happened to his son after Ramsay attacked him. But the door opened and Benjen walked in, followed by Jon and Arthur. Nobody knew the young man, who looked so _Stark_ in his appearance, but Catelyn Tully knew the man behind him. He was older, but still recognizable as Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. “Who are you?” Arya Stark asked, glad that there was someone else who shared the Stark look with her besides her father and her uncle. “This is your cousin; my nephew”, Ned explained and Jon smiled, drawing Blackfyre and placing it on the table in front of them. “I am King Aegon of House Targaryen and House Stark, the Sixth of his name, rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Rightful King of the Andals and the First Men. Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

The silence in the room was palpable. “Robert’s Rebellion was built on a lie. Rhaegar Targaryen did not kidnap my sister; or rape her. They loved each other. He annulled his marriage to Elia Martell and wed Lyanna. But Robert killed Rhaegar on the Trident and my sister died giving birth to their son”, Ned explained. “She was dead before I reached her. But she left me a letter that explained everything. That’s why I refused to speak to Robert ever since. Benjen knew, and he sailed to Essos to meet the Kingsguard and Aegon.” It explained a lot of unanswered questions. Why Ned had refused to fight Balon Greyjoy for the King, and Benjen’s unexplained absences. “You don’t look like a Targaryen, though”, Arya finally said and Jon gave her a smile. “You’re right about that. Dany has always joked that she has far more of the dragon than I do and she is right about that. I always had more of the wolf.” “Dany?” Catelyn Tully was confused, no matter their relationship; she doubted that Ser Arthur Dayne would allow anyone to refer to him as _Dany_. “Dany is my wife, as well as my aunt: Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. And a dragon, if I’ve ever seen one.”

 

His bannermen had taken to the news better than he expected. Reading Lyanna’s letter loud for them and having Jon present Blackfyre to them had made them shut up, even Greatjon Umber, at least shortly. “But what now? You want us to march south and take that damned throne of yours? Not likely.” Jon met his gaze, staring the huge man down. “No. I will take King’s Landing and the Iron Throne for myself and my wife, but the current priority is not south, but north.” The Great Hall was silent and the young King took that as a sign to continue. “While we stand here and talk, Wildlings march on the Wall. We have to fight their leader first.” Some bannermen clapped; after all, it wouldn’t be the first time the Night’s Watch needed their help. “But they aren’t the real enemy. The real enemy lurks far more north, an enemy with inhuman eyes as blue as glaciers in the sun. Some call them the Others, some call them The White Walkers. The Dead are our enemy, no matter if you are a Northman or a Wildling.”

 

That did it. Someone - Lord Glover - started shouting. “The Dead? You can’t be serious. Ned, that nephew of yours is as mad as his father - and his _grandfather_.” Next to Jon, Arthur stepped forward, but Jon shook his head slightly. “Let them discuss”, he whispered. Some of the Lords seemed to agree with Lord Glover, but someone from the Mountain Clans - a Flint - slammed his goblet down so hard that everyone fell silent. “He is not mad, he is _right_. You may have forgotten, sitting in your holdfast, but the Flints still remember. ‘Always Vigilant’, as our words say. The legends of old have always been real. But the Dead have not been seen walking for thousands of years. We had a long summer, and we will have a long and harsh winter. If this man is right, it might be the last winter for all of us.” There were murmurs again in the hall, before Lady Lyanna Mormont stood. “House Mormont remembers as well. He might not be a Stark in name, but his appearance and his behaviour prove him to be a Northerner, one of us. House Mormont will follow House Stark, as we have done for thousands of years.”

 

After that, more and more houses promised to send men so that they could ride north to the Wall. It would take some time to assemble them, and Jon had decided to use the time well. “Queen Yara Greyjoy. I am glad you could make it.” Jon had sent a raven to Pyke, requesting a representative of the Ironborn. As soon as he had heard about the alliance between the North and the Iron Islands, an idea had formed in his mind. “King Aegon. I also present my brother, Theon.” After exchanging pleasantries, Jon decided to come to the point. “I have heard from Lord Stark that your islands want to be independent, am I right?” The two Greyjoys exchanged a quick glance. “Yes. Your ancestors took the Iron Islands...we ask you to give them back.” That was easier than he had anticipated. “I will have the power to grant you your wish, once I am on the Iron Throne. But there are wars to come before that. Can I count on your support?”

 

“Our uncle Euron has killed our father...I killed him in return, but his crew managed to kill Ironborn and sink some of our ships. But if we can get our independence back, we are willing to help you.” Jon nodded, thinking. “Even if your Iron Islands are independent again, they have to respect the integrity of the Seven Kingdoms. No more raping, raiding, storming the shores.” They shared another glance, this time longer, but ultimately, Theon nodded. “No more”, Yara promised. Their Ironborn would not like it, but they would definitely like it better than being ruled by the Seven Kingdoms. “How many ships are in the Iron Fleet?” Jon finally asked, his heart beating slightly faster. “About three-hundred and forty, after Euron’s failed coup.” “A hundred will suffice. I need men to sail them, as well. And no worries, I am merely borrowing the ships for a while.” “Where would you have us sail them?” This time, a smile graced Jon’s lips. “I want you to sail them east. All the way to Slaver’s Bay.”  Surprise was evident on their faces. “What shall we find in Slaver’s Bay?” “My wife, Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. And with her, you will find our army. I ask you to ferry them to Westeros.”

 

* * *

 

Slowly, stories of dragons in the East reached the ports in Westeros. And behind hidden doors, Dornishmen began to whisper of Fire And Blood.

* * *

 

 

“I don’t trust any of the Masters”, Dany muttered after the audience was over. “I bet they are plotting at night-time, thinking of horrifying ways to kill me.” Oswell placed a hand on the pommel of his sword. “I vowed that nothing would happen to you. And I intend to keep that vow.” He didn’t even dare to think what Jon would do to him if anything happened to Daenerys. “The Unsullied are ready to fight any danger for you, Queen Daenerys.” Grey Worm, the commander of the Unsullied had noticed her thoughtfulness and that she feared an impending danger. “Your Grace, is there anything we can do for you?” Missandei wanted to know, but she shook her head. “No. There is nothing we can do at the moment, besides anticipating their next move. I just never had the patience for waiting like this.”

 

She stood on the balcony and waited for Hyrkoon to come to her. Soon enough, he would be almost too big to land on top of the Pyramid, but at the same time that meant she could fly on him very soon. Since their arrival in Meereen, he had been her steady visitor at night, but sometimes Rhaegal and Viserion came as well. _“The dragons remember, Daenerys Stormborn. Will you?”_ There was still one more place in Essos she had to go - Vaes Dothrak. But she dared not to go there until the Masters were defeated and Slaver’s Bay truly _free_. “Your Grace?” Missandei stepped on the balcony as Hyrkoon took flight. “There are two visitors from Westeros here that ask you for an audience.” It was late, but she was not tired yet. “Bring them to the throne room, please. Ser Oswell and I will join you, soon.” The discussion that followed was lengthy and complicated, but at the end of it, two famous Westerosi entered her service: Lord Tyrion Lannister and Lord Varys, her deceased father’s Master of Whispers.

 

Riding a dragon was exhilarating and one of the best things she had ever done in her life. If Dany would think of a list, flying on Hyrkoon came out on a peak position, right behind spending the night with Jon. Jon’s plan of sending the Iron Fleet to Meereen had been a brilliant one. The Ironborn under the command of Theon Greyjoy had arrived shortly after the Masters’ fleet tried to besiege Meereen. In the end, she had burned the Masters’ biggest ship with Hyrkoon and the Iron Fleet made sure that no ship could escape. Her victory was absolute. Grey Worm had cut the throats of Razdal mo Eraz from Yunkai and Belicho Paenymion from their supporters in Old Volantis, effectively ending slavery in Essos for good. That night, she decided to speak to Oswell about her plan. He was sceptical first, but when she elaborated the details, the Kingsguard started grinning proudly, in the way he had grinned when she had turned the tables on the Masters in Astapor. She would head north in time for the Khalar vezhven at Vaes Dothrak, and there she would try to acquire the Dothraki for Jon’s and her course in Westeros.

 

The Dothraki followed strength above anything else. That was the reason there had been khalasars led by non-Dothraki a few times throughout their history. Those men had done impressive feats - storming cities deemed impenetrable, or killed other khals with a ferocity that made their former khalasars bow to them without a second thought. “The Dothraki have never bowed to a woman, though”, Oswell had told her when she brought up her idea. “That doesn’t matter. They will bow to _me_.” In the end, she had decided to bring Oswell and Daario Naharis with her to Vaes Dothrak. She would leave Daario in Dragon’s Bay, his Second Sons making sure peace stayed there; and it would only help her cause if he did so with a healthy amount of fear - fearing her. The Khalar vezhven would take place in a hut in the centre of Vaes Dothrak. None of them had entered it during their last visit, but they had heard about it. The architecture was almost too good to be true, lots of dry wood and both the floor and the roof made from straw.

 

Daenerys entered the hut and was greeted with jeer and unveiled hate. In a way, she had expected it. But when Dany placed her hand on the brazier, heading the call of the flames, she gave them the death they had asked for. The building was engulfed in flames fast, and the khals burned in the way they had wanted to burn cities all over Essos. Oswell and Daario had made sure that the only exit was barred, but besides her clothes, she had nothing to fear of the flames. And when the door cracked open, consumed by the flames, she stepped from the inferno unharmed - words tolling in her head like an iron bell: _Fire can’t kill a dragon_. The Dothraki gazed at her, in fright, wonder and utter awe, and bowed to her. A smile tucked at her lips as she watched them, illuminated by the fire. “I have gotten us our army, Jon.”

 

* * *

 

 

“The Northern Lords would certainly be impressed by the fact that Mance Rayder is actually trying to besiege the Wall”, Arthur thought when their host arrived at Castle Black. Some brother of the Night’s Watch, a man named Ser Alliser Thorne or something like that was far less impressed by their arrival, especially once Jon made clear that he intended to speak with Mance Rayder and allow Wildlings to pass. “Who do you think you are?” Thorne had asked and spat at Jon’s boots - a mistake that found him at the pointy end of Dawn and Blackfyre mere seconds after that. “I am King Aegon of House Targaryen and House Stark. And you have forgotten the oath you swore when you became a knight. There a children beyond the Wall, and women that are no spearwives. Yet you would kill them all without a second thought. A sworn brother of the Night’s Watch should know better than anyone that the Dead are coming down from the Lands of Always Winter. And every dead Wildling means an increase to _their_ numbers.” Around them, everyone had stopped in their tracks, eager to listen to his words. “Go on then, try to strike me. And I promise your death will be neither quick nor painless.” After that, there hadn’t been many issues. Cotter Pyke, the Lord Commander, had allowed them to pass the Wall.

 

“You will allow us to cross the Wall, under the condition that we kneel to you?” Mance Rayder, the King-beyond-the-Wall, had been a member of the Night’s Watch once, and hadn’t forgotten life on the southern side. “No. You won’t have to kneel for me. An oath in front of a weirwood tree is enough for me”, Jon replied. “And what shall we swear? Blinding loyalty? That we will help you take the Iron Throne?” The sarcasm was evident in his voice, but Jon kept his face smooth. “I want your support in the wars yet to come, this is true. But the Iron Throne is not my top priority at the moment. We have a common enemy, Mance Rayder, and we have to stop him. The Iron Throne won’t mean anything for me or my wife if there is no one left alive in Westeros.” There was a deep silence for a moment. “But of course, you have to make sure your men and women stay in line: No murder, no robbery, no raping.” Ryder looked at him, searching for a double meaning or a trap; and finding none.

 

“So basically, I agree to help you fight the Night King; and to make sure your kneelers will not be disturbed by us. In exchange, you allow us to pass through the Wall, and to settle down in the zone of the Gift?” Jon nodded. “Aye. The fewer people that stay on this side, the fewer wights the White Walkers can raise.” “And a vow in front of a weirwood tree will do? I thought you believed in other gods?” Despite the graveness of their discussion, Jon smiled. “I believe in the Old Gods of the Forest, as my mother’s family did for millennia. Winter Is Coming, so we have to make sure we are prepared. But if you try to play me, Mance Rayder, winter is not what you have to worry about. You’ll have to worry about me. No matter where you try to hide, I’ll find you and I’ll make you pay with Fire And Blood.” “There is no need for that, Aegon Targaryen. You said it yourself - we have a common enemy.”

 

Most of Mance Rayder’s large host had decided to follow his lead and swear the oath in front of a weirwood tree. “You did very well during that parley”, Arthur told Jon as they watched the Wildlings enter the Seven Kingdoms. Jon gave his Kingsguard a warm smile. “I had the best teachers in the entire known world. You raised Dany and me very well.” “It is an honour serving you, my King. I hadn’t expected so many of them to come, though.” Jon thought about it for a moment. “I haven’t forced them to bend the knee. They aren’t used to someone ruling them. But they do respect honour. I showed them honour by having them swear to their gods. There will be trouble for sure, but most of them will feel compelled to keep their oath.”

 

“A little higher...yes, that looks good. Remember, quick as a snake. Quiet, as a shadow.” Jon had stayed in the North, overseeing the settlements of the Freefolk, before heading back to Winterfell. Some members’ of the Night’s Watch had been a little too vocal in their protests - so Lord Commander Pyke had their heads. He was the Lord Commander, after all, and he had supported King Aegon’s plan. “To the side! Faster!” Below him, in the courtyard, trained his favourite cousin, Arya Stark, with her dancing master, Syrio Forell, the former First Sword of Braavos. “Aegon, there is a message for you.” He turned and his other cousin Sansa approached, holding out a piece of parchment for him. Arthur saw the way his eyes lit up; the way the King smiled - and knew what the message was about before he could read it himself. “She is here, Arthur. Finally, Dany has landed on Dragonstone. We leave immediately.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dany stood at the beachy shore of Dragonstone, looking west. Her ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, had looked west as well, before flying his dragon Balerion there. While she would fly her dragon Hyrkoon there, now was not the time to do so. Surrounded by her most trusted advisors, Ser Oswell, Missandei, Grey Worm and her bloodrider Qhono of the Dothraki, she waited for a ship to arrive. It arrived indeed, and soon enough, a small rowing boat was heading towards the beach.

 

He had kept growing in the years they had spent apart, and he had allowed his hair to grow longer. She noticed it from the distance, and with every minute, he came closer to her. His grey eyes shone brightly when he spotted her on the beach, and he simply stepped into the shallow water, too impatient to wait for the boat to be pulled ashore. Crossing the space between them, they decided to ignore everyone around them; even ignore their own titles for a moment, as Jon pulled Dany in his arms to kiss her in front of everyone. They had been through a lot and prevailed; they would succeed in the Great War yet to come. But for a moment, it didn’t matter to them. As promised, as foreseen, they had found each other again on the shores of Dragonstone. And neither of them would ever want to let go again.

 

* * *

 

 

The last image in the flames was a blurry one - a huge blizzard was covering anything in snow. "Please, be careful. The storm keeps getting worse", an unknown female voice said, perhaps it was the voice to the tall human figure in the back. "My name is Daenerys Stormborn. If they bring the storm with them, so do I." Two men chuckled at that, Jon and a figure that might have been Ser Jaime Lannister, before Dany and Jon mounted a grown Hyrkoon and Rhaegal, respectively, before soaring in the air. "I love you, Dany. No matter what happens, I will always love you." "I love you, too, Jon. Promise me that you will return to me…"

 

* * *

 

 

“And this is yet another lifeline that ends with the battle for the dawn”, the Red Priestess told them. While Jon was amazed by the vastness of Essos, Dany couldn’t help but think of Asshai. They would surely have a lot to think of tonight.

 

* * *

 

Author’s Note: I usually don’t write long Author’s Notes, but this time I have to make an exception. My original AU mentioned an Essosi AU, the AU you just read about. But actually, another GoT story called “What You're Risking Your Life For” inspired me to write the timeline without Robert’s Rebellion.

 

That left me with a difficult task – I had to make sure that my story derived from the abandoned one I’ve read as far as possible, which is basically the reason we never even see Viserys. After that, it’s just been a string of ideas. Where could they find the dragon eggs? How could I make sure Jon finds supporters in the North? How will they end slavery in Essos, knowing that they would grow up around it?

 

I had fun trying to figure it out, though, and I hope you like this AU as well.


End file.
